Lovechildren, Letters, and Loving Once More
by Only Bella
Summary: Several years ago, Harry Potter runs away with his daughter. Now, he's faced with the decision of letting her reunite with her other parent. What's a boy to do?
1. Chapter 1

"Daddy," she said, "Tell me a story." A raven-haired, green-eyed, bundle of mischief crawled into her father's bed.

There was a thunderstorm going on outside, and she was frightened of them. However, a story from her father seemed to cheer her up while putting her back to sleep.

Sighing, her daddy blindly groped to darkness for his glasses. Upon finding them, he shoved them on and looked down at his small daughter.

"What story would you like to hear, Ms. Freya?" Harry Potter asked.

"Tell me about how you met me, Daddy! I like that story. There are dragons!"

"There's a dragon, baby girl," Harry said as he ran his hand through his unruly mane. He sighed as he collected his thoughts. His beautiful Freya had been asking for this story more often than usual. He frequently thought if Freya should meet her other parent.

"Once upon a time…." Freya prompted.

"Sorry, sweetie," Harry apologized, "Once upon a time in a land not so far from here. In a land a short broom ride away, there lived a little boy."

Harry relayed his life history to his daughter, accentuating the part with the dragon.

"…..And, the dragon came down from the heavens in a fiery blaze. The dragon swept the little boy off his feet and carried him away…."

Freya fell asleep near the end of Harry's embellished and slightly modified life history. He finished anyway even though he was speaking to an empty house and a thunderstorm. He finished because it put his life back into perspective. In those few fleeting moments when he mentioned coming to America because being so close to the battlefields where his friends and families had laid down there lives for him and the move to New York to LA to a small Texas town, and to Spencer, his final destination, he relived so many special memories that he could never quite do justice to unless he was telling Freya. He knew in his heart of hearts that Freya shouldn't know some parts of his life, but instead of skipping over them completely, he skimmed over them and promised to tell her more when she was older.

After he finished, Harry scooped Freya up and carried her into her room. He laid her on the bed and tucked her in. Harry placed a kiss on her forehead and watched her sleep. He couldn't help noticing that as she slept she looked so much like her other parent.

Right then, Harry made a decision. He decided that no matter how much it might hurt him it would hurt Freya much more if she never met her other parent. He sneaked quietly out of her room, and sat down at the coffee table with a piece of paper and a pen. He knew he only had one shot at getting this letter right. He sighed once more, and put pen to paper.

_To You,_

_I don't know if you know, but there was a great thunderstorm this evening. Our daughter climbed into my bed, as she's wont to do during thunderstorms, and asked me to tell her the story of how she and I met. As I relayed my vast life history to her, the modified and embellished version, I thought about you. I thought about whether you two should ever meet again._

_When I put her to bed just now, I noticed that she looks like you enormously when she sleeps. She might have my hair and my eyes, but she has your demeanor. Sometimes she does things, and they make me cry. She is so like you that sometimes it's not even funny. As I watched our daughter sleep, I decided that no matter how much seeing you again hurts me our daughter has the right to know her other parent._

_As you may or may not know, the local festival is the end of next week. I think it is the ideal place for you and Freya to reunite. It's public, very public._

_Contact me as soon as possible. Letter is preferred, but if you must call my number is 555-0117._

_Sincerely,_

_Harry J. Potter_

Harry ran his hands through his hair as he looked at the words he'd written. Did he really want to see Freya's other parent again? Did he want to inflict all that pain on himself again? No, he didn't, but Freya, should meet her other parent, right? He wasn't so sure anymore. Mustering all the Gryffindor courage he had left from his school days, he slipped the letter into an envelope. He stamped and addressed it before going back to bed. Needless to say, Harry Potter had a fitful and memory-filled sleep.

The next morning, Monday, Harry walked Freya to pre-school. Even though the girl was extremely magical and would no doubt be accepted into Hogwarts, Harry wanted her to be without prejudice; therefore he enrolled her in a common pre-school that was held in the basement of a local church. When he'd detached her from his leg, he walked to the post office to the mail the letter.

As he walked, he repeatedly asked himself if he knew what he was doing. Instead of a straight answer, he was faced with a random collection of images from memories past. He saw Freya playing on the beach as her parents watched her from farther up. He saw her cuddled up against her additional blood relation as small earthquake hit their small apartment. He saw the sparkle in her eyes when the arrived in the small Texas town. He saw her tears when the left in the dead of night so many fateful years ago to come to Spencer. He saw himself perform a small Memory Charm on her so he could wipe clean the images of a parent other than himself. That image him disgusted him more than anyone could ever imagine. He leaned up against the closest inanimate object. Was he really going to do this? When he realized the thing he was leaning up against was a blue mailbox, he decided that fate wasn't going to let him run away and he slipped the letter in.

Several days later, Harry received a letter in the mail. It was the response he'd been dreading. What had he been thinking? He decided to read it when Freya was at pre-school. With slightly trembling hands, Harry opened the letter.

_Dear Harry,_

_To say I was surprised at finding your letter in my mail would be an understatement. I was shocked to the point of needing revived. However, that is not the purpose of this letter. I would of course like to see my daughter again. The festival next weekend seems to be the most opportune time. Thank you for this opportunity, Lumiére._

_Love,_

Drake

Harry dropped the letter on the counter. So, Draco Malfoy was really going to be in Spencer next week. Harry reread letter, and this time he winced at the old nickname Draco had used. Draco used to call Harry Lumiére because of his favorite character in Walt Disney's "Beauty and the Beast." What other old nicknames and such was Draco going to dredge up next weekend? Harry was going to have to prepare himself for the worst.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry sat very uncomfortably in his worn emerald green armchair. It was hands down the most comfortable chair he owned, so why was he so uncomfortable sitting in it? Harry, who hadn't noticed he'd been staring at his hands folded in his lap until now, looked up at the man sitting across from him on the couch. The blonde-haired, fair-skinned man was the reason Harry Potter was so uncomfortable sitting in his chair. The man had disappeared—not disappeared, so much as had been exiled--from Harry's life for many, many years, and now he was here in Harry's living room sitting on Harry's couch looking entirely like he belonged.

"So, how have you been?" Draco Malfoy asked looking over at Harry.

Harry jumped, surprised to have been addressed. "Fine," he finally answered, "Just fine. Peachy, actually. You know, same ol', same ol'."

He was rambling and he knew it. He knew Draco knew it too from the hint of a smile crossing his lips. Harry blushed. He had often found himself blushing in the presence of Draco Malfoy. He semi-hated it then, now, however, he hated it and hated it fully.

Having broken the ice, Draco plunged in farther. "How's Freya?" Draco noticed that Harry beamed when he spoke of their daughter. The more Harry spoke of their raven-haired toddler the more he used his hands. Draco had an exceptionally good memory, so he was quite able to remember that Harry only used his hands while speaking if he was truly passionate about the topic at hand. The blonde smiled at this.

Harry had no idea how long he'd been speaking, relaying his daughter's small life history. He knew that he'd been speaking for quite a long while, though, due to that fact that Draco was fidgeting on the couch, crossing and uncrossing his legs. It didn't matter whether or not Draco was enthusiastic about whatever Harry or anyone for that matter would be talking about when Draco thought they'd been going on too long he'd start to fidget. Harry immediately stopped speaking.

Draco stared at Harry. Harry stared at Draco. Neither knew what to say. Both were afraid of speaking, one because he did not know what to say, the other because he was afraid of saying too much. As they sat staring at each other, both were unaware of how much time was passing. They let themselves fall into the depths of each other's eyes. They let themselves fall into memories they thought they'd long since forgotten about.

"_He looks older," Draco thought to himself. "Admittedly, he's attractive as hell, but older looking than he once was. It's hard to imagine that it's only been three years since he's been gone. Three excruciatingly, long years, I might add. I never realized that I never stopped loving him. This man. The mother, for lack of a better term, of my child. My beautiful, beautiful Freya. Did he ask me to come here simply for the sake of our daughter? Or is it more complex than that?"_

"_**He hasn't changed." Harry thought as he looked intensely at Draco. "If I didn't know any better, I'd swear that man hasn't aged in the last three years. Has it really been three years? Did I really leave this beautiful man only three years ago? Did I just call Draco Malfoy beautiful? What was I thinking asking him here?! Here to Spencer where no one knows who I am, least of all what I've done. This is for Freya. Have to keep thinking that. This is for Freya. This is for the sake of my precious, precious baby girl. This is for Freya. This is for Freya. This is for Freya. Merlin, he's beautiful."**_

The rapping knock at the door startled Harry out of his thoughts. With a hurried excuse, he practically ran to the front door.

"Daddy," came the voice when Harry wrenched the door open, "Where were you? I waited for-EVER and you never showed up!" Freya looked up at her father exasperated.

"I assure you, Harry," the voice of cool reason belonging to Harry's next door neighbor, and Spencer best friend, Rachel said, "That she waited outside for a mere three minutes before Ms. Avalon called me wondering where you were. You are known for your promptness."

Harry shrugged, then immediately froze when he heard a soft laugh from behind him.

"Harry Potter, prompt? Are we talking about the same Harry Potter?" Draco asked Rachel as he came up behind Harry and laid a hand on his shoulder.

Rachel, a keen observer, was quick to notice this "friendly" gesture. She shot a look of misunderstanding at Harry. Harry, for what it was worth, removed Draco's hand, and introduced the two of them.

"Rachel, this is my old schoolmate, Draco Malfoy. Draco, this is my best friend and next door neighbor, Rachel Ray." The pair shook hands and exchanged pleasantries.

"Thank you for returning my baby girl, Rach. If you don't mind, Mr. Malfoy and I have some catching up to do. I'll call you later. I promise." With that, Harry practically shoved her out the door.

"Freya, why don't you go upstairs and wait for me in your room?" Harry said calmly.

"Why?"

"Mr. Malfoy and I have to talk about grown-up things right now."

"Is this one of those things that you'll tell me when I'm older?"

"Yes, now be a good girl and go upstairs. You wouldn't want Mr. Malfoy to think you're rude, right?"

"Right." Freya pranced up the stairs.

When Harry was perfectly sure that Freya was out of earshot, he turned on Draco. "Just what in the hell did you think you were doing?"

"I didn't do anything!"

"You most certainly did so!"

"Fine, then what did I do?"

"You put your hand on my shoulder!"

"Is that all?"

"It that all?!"

"I was under the impression that's what old _schoolmates_ do."

"Well, you certainly have the wrong impression if you think I want you touching me."

"You don't want me touching you?"

"Yes!"

"You're lying."

"I most certainly am not!"

"You are so!"

"Am not!"

"Are so!"

"Am not!"

"Are so!"

"Am not!"

"Are so!"

"Prove it!"

"Fine then I will!"

"Go ahead. Make my day!"

"Fine!"

"I'm not getting any younger, you know."

"That's obvious."

"Can we commence with the torture, please?"

"What torture?"

"Being in the same room with you, Malfoy, is torture. Having you speak to me is even worse."

"So, we've resorted to last names now, eh, Potter? What are we third years?"

"You might be. I've matured."

"Sure you have!"

"I have!"

"Prove it!"

"Only after you prove that I'm a liar!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

"You didn't mind me touching you just now. I know it."

"Enlighten me."

"I know you. You never minded me touching you before. In fact, you used to live for it."

"Used to. Past tense. Doesn't mean I do anymore."

"Oh, but you do. I can see it in your eyes, Harry. You want me to touch you again. You can't get enough of it. You could never get enough of it."

"I don't want you touching me, Malfoy. I don't care about the past. The past is the past for a—" Harry never got to finish his thought. Draco Malfoy had kissed him, and Harry was kissing him back.

* * *

Sorry it's taken so long to update. I've been grounded more so than usual. I promise to keep up with this story. I have quite a good idea of how exactly everything turns out. It's just getting it there, you know?

Love and Stuff to those who read!

Love and MORE Stuff to those that review!!

Yours, TheOneTrueEMOKId


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